


Cobwebs

by Davechicken



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-06 01:28:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20283124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Crowley doesn't associate with Humans because they bloody well die all the time, okay.





	Cobwebs

The first to go was Shadwell. He held on (painless, and only averagely cantankerous) for longer than was really likely. One day, when they were visiting, Madame Tracy took the angel's hand and quietly said, "I think he's a little tired, now, don't you?"

Crowley had looked everywhere else in the world but at any of their eyes. He wondered if they'd orchestrated it for his benefit, or if they were all still saying things to the wrong people. 

Aziraphale had mildly murmured that it was getting on a bit (two in the afternoon on a languid, summer Sunday) and would Crowley be a dear and drive him home? 

When they reached the 'now leaving' sign, a snap like cobweb worn thin enough for the breeze to break... It didn't feel like anything and it continued to feel like nothing until a week later when he watched the teardrops blink into eyelashes as his angel took the call and asked if he would have wanted flowers or something else? And would she let them know the timings? And was there anything they could do?

It was just Death. It happened to all of them. It's why Crowley never got close these days. 

***

The Crematorium wasn't consecrated, which meant he could sit on the stupid wooden bench and slump into his sunglasses and practice nonchalance while the angel touched hands and whispered low blessings at everyone around. 

He felt Aziraphale siphon off some pain with every touch, and he hissed at him that it was ridiculous and they'd all been born knowing this would happen and Shadwell wouldn't want the Southern Pansy to cry for him anyway. 

He refused to let the angel touch him, just in case. 

***

More people showed than he'd expected. His Jezebel had been a good influence on him, as the various locals doffed caps and husked words over pints. Crowley had imagined it would have been a Tadfield reunion, but it was much more. 

So it didn't matter when he slunk off a little early, and then locked eyes with Madame Tracy herself. 

"Times like this I almost wish I smoked," she said, smiling around her pain. 

She didn't have long left. Not without intervention, divine or otherwise. He could almost smell her ash already, and it stuck in his craw. But why would she want to keep going without him? You didn't need angelic senses to know how they'd felt about one another. How long she'd waited. How he'd dared die first. How...

"It's alright, dear. I know there's happy spirits now, thanks to you."

"Aziraphale doesn't count."

"Still. Knowing there's an ever after..."

"Yeah. Look. Gotta... You... Bye."

He'd fled before he said something truly awful. His anger wasn't her fault, and he didn't want her compassion at a time when she needed it more. 

***

It was a few nights later. He was nursing bottle number three, trying to let it numb his mind and tongue (lost my best friend... Alcohol hadn't helped that time, why would it now?) when the stool beside him creaked as a tall young man sat down. 

He knew where Adam was studying, of course. Aziraphale went on at great length to the demon's feigned boredom about all of their... Acquaintances. 

Adam was old enough to drink. His friends were old enough to need watching in case they wrapped themselves around lampposts. Only a few years left before they were meeting for Anathema, Newt, one another...

"They'll be okay," the Antichrist told him. Of all things. In the middle of his fifth miraculously changed degree (he didn't need to study, but he enjoyed it, and everyone swore he'd been on the course since day one). Son of Satan, and champion of beer pong. 

"Hah. Sure they will." He'd heard it before. He'd seen otherwise. 

"If you didn't believe it, why would you have stopped me?"

"... selfishly wanting not to be stuck in Hell forever?" He snapped at him, even though it wasn't his fault. 

"And why give us the choice? Twice?"

"Some bloody choice! Mindless obedience, or eventually going to one prison or another! Right, that's worked out well for your lot, hasn't it?" He was angry. So angry. It wasn't fair! Eden had been just another prison, but the only freedom they ever got was fleeting and....

"Angels might be in Heaven, but that doesn't mean it is Heaven."

"Right. Riddles and Ineffable nonsense. I forgot, you're your grandmother's still, not one of Them."

Adam tapped his fingers on the condensation on his glass. "So? You were an angel. So was Lucifer. Humans changed. So did you."

"Ssssemantics." He was slurring, and not from booze. He'd changed, and he wasn't even sure what that made him these days. Or the angel. Or Adam. 

"Point is," Adam continued, in a tone and patter that was eerily familiar, "... It's not what you expected. And I think that's why you came to my local."

"Closest booze to my mood," he lied. He had, in fact, come to ask that very question. "But humour me."

"Did you see any Humans when you were there?"

"Humans weren't--"

"After. When you went back."

Oh. No. He hadn't. 

"Ssso?"

"So. The angels aren't in charge of the afterlife. Just Heaven."

"...huh."

"He's happy. And so will they all be. When it's time. So stop worrying about it.... She isn't what you thought She was."

Crowley snorted. She really wasn't. He was sitting with the Antichrist, being consoled that Humanity wasn't being tortured by Gabriel for all eternity. While his angel - who rebelled against Heaven with him - likely fussed about at home waiting for him. 

And they hadn't been struck down. And they hadn't been tortured any more than any other creature. And the world was still going. 

And he hadn't somehow given the choice of rock or hard place to every sentient being. 

He jumped when his pocket started vibrating, and pulled out his phone. The halo on the screen said his angel was, indeed, missing him. Crowley turned to give his excuses, but Adam was already slung between two other students, chanting up at the flat screen about the men in tight shorts kicking a ball up and down. 

Crowley felt a sting of something like cobwebs in his eyes, and answered the call. 

"Hey, angel. Get your coat on. We need to take your Jezebel out tonight."

He wanted to make the most of the time they had left.


End file.
